A/N: Repost

Special thanks to:

ManILoveAnonymity, Xiaolin, PcKtmouse, ZukoFlame, Mila, JenniJenJen, BlackandWhiteAngel, Nejidragon, kaitamis, angelofdeath, topaz, Sky, Gin, pyro, tears, lovestar, treasureanon, and San's wife. Your reviews way back when have continued to encourage me.

The knife scuffed the potato again, shedding more peeling from the spongy flesh. It joined the others on the floor, creating a small pile. Knife in hand, Jim Hawkins continued this minimal task for what seemed to be the thousandth time. Most of the potatoes were already peeled and cleaned, and sitting in a plastic bucket near his boot. Grief made him hunch over his work, and again and again he used the sleeve of his jacket to wipe away his tears.

It's all my fault, he thought miserably, grief filling his chest, and weighing down his shoulders ever more. If I had just double-checked that blasted lifeline…He knew by now, of course, that such thinking was useless. Mr. Arrow was lost. There was nothing that could be done, nothing whatsoever. And it was all because of his stupid mistake.

In a fit of rage, he threw down his knife, and kicked out at the bucket, sending it's contents spilling across the floor.

"Why couldn't I just do it right?" He fumed aloud, jumping up and running his hands through his hair angrily. Hot tears streamed down his face, and he bit his lip to force them back. He was used to doing this by now. He forced himself to breathe steadily for a few moments, until he got a grip. "I'm such an idiot."

"Cabin boy…" A deep voice came from behind him, and he whirled around. A huge, six-legged form was blocking his only exit. He lifted his chin defiantly.

"What do you want?" Spider-psycho. He added mentally. Scroop's yellow eyes glowed as he glared down at the boy.

"It'sss your fault we lossst Mr. Arrow." He taunted. "Who elssse are you planning to dissspose of?"

"You should really do something about that lisssp." Jim glared back evenly at the insectisoid, balling his hands into fists. His eyes darted towards the knife he'd dropped. He'd give anything to have it in hand now.

"Why you impudent little-" Scroop started, but he stopped when he followed the boy's eyes towards the potential weapon. "Ssso…cabin boy wantsss to fight?" He taunted darkly. A look of extreme distaste crossed Jim's face.

"As if I'd waste my time." Scroop lashed out at Jim with his massive claws, but the teen jumped to one side and bolted. Scroop was still blocking the doorway to the galley, so he fled through the only other door he could see, which led into the kitchen. He heard the sound of not two, but six feet coming after him, and he hastily threw over a large barrel of purps behind him.

Where could he run now? There was no way he could fight Scroop. And Morph wasn't here to help him this time. He'd been with Silver ever since they'd cleared the black hole. Silver! He thought desperately as he bolted towards another door. I need help! But unless the cyborg was telepathic as well as a good cook, there was little he could do for his cabin boy now.

Jim collided with a shelf, and was horrified to find that he had run straight into the larder. He was cornered.

He turned to see Scroop's dark silhouette on the wall outside the door. He looked around wildly, and his eyes landed on a small space beneath the shelves mostly used for storing pots and pans that were of no use. It was mostly empty. He dove for it, and rolled onto his side. He held his breath as his tormenter stalked into the room. His heart was pounding so hard he could've sworn Scroop would hear it, but apparently he was wrong. The spider-like alien examined the small room, turned, and left. Jim sighed, relieved. But his reprieve was cut short as the door slammed shut and locked. He gasped, staring at it. No! He dared not move. He slowly counted to thirty, and slowly edged himself out from the storage compartment. He looked around, and found that he was alone. It was incredibly dark, but then it was after sunset, so no surprise there.

He stood up, and cautiously walked towards the door. He pressed his ear to the cold metal, and heard nothing. His hands felt their way down the door, until he found the handle. He tried to turn it, but it was locked. Then he frowned. That was weird, he felt a switch. Why would Scroop lock the door if he could easily unlock it from the inside? He caught his breath suddenly. Unless-

A dark chuckle came from above him, and to his utmost terror, he watched, frozen, as Scroop slowly descended from the roof.

"Sssomeone needs to teach you a lessson, boy." He said, his voice full of malice. Jim came to his senses, and turned sharply, his hands fumbling to relocate the door handle and the lock. But Scroop grabbed his shoulder before he had a chance, and before he honestly knew what was happening, Scroop hand him pinned down on the floor. He snapped open his claw, and held it to Jim's neck.

Suddenly, a new light came to his eyes. One that gave Jim chills. Scroop moved his claw to finger the parting of his shirt just over his chest, which was partially split open. "It seemsss unfair for a lad sssuch as yourssself to die inexperienced." Jim's eyes flew open wide, and he began kicking out savagely. He caught Scroop off guard, knocking him away, and he once again took refuge under the shelves.

"Help! Silver! Morph, Doc, somebody, help!" he yelled at the top of his lungs. Scroop caught his boot, and dragged him out from under the shelf.

"I'm doing you a favor, cabin boy." A twisted leer covered his fanged-face as he thrust his left claw towards Jim's belt, and caught the buckle.

"Get off me, you psychotic freak!" Jim cried out. He was panicking now. He'd heard the stories of people who had faced this...situation. He'd heard all the warnings, had been taught to defend himself. But his mind was drawing a blank. Scroop was stronger than him, the knives were all in the kitchen and his attacker was blocking his only escape. What was he supposed to do? He felt something sharp pinch his thigh, and he yelped. The alien tore his jacket from his arms.

"Ssstop squirming!" Scroop snapped, but Jim bit down on one of his claws, causing the pirate to hiss in pain. "You ungrateful little-" Jim kicked him in the jaw, and leapt up, running for the door. Scroop tackled him from behind, putting one arm around both of Jim's so that he could barely move. Scroop seized a hold of his belt again, and it came undone easily.

"Stop it!" Jim shouted, "Let me go!" His tone was pleading, almost begging. He fought with all his might, and Scroop hurled him against the wall. He still hand a firm hold on Jim's shirt, though, and yanked it over his head as he did. He dropped it on the wooden floor, and smirked at the bare-chested teen cowering in the corner.

Feeling slightly cold without his shirt, Jim shivered. His belt lay by the door to the larder, and he shuddered. He couldn't believe this was happening. The only things he still had on were his cargo pants, socks, and one boot. He looked up as he felt a wave of panic sweep over him.

"No…no, please! Please, don't-"

"Shut up." Scroop snarled, and Jim instantly became silent. He swallowed hard, feeling tears rising in his eyes. "You're a pathetic wassste of ssskin." He grabbed Jim's wrist, twisting it backwards. "Don't you agree?" Jim nodded, slowly at first, then frantically. The alien smirked again. "Sssuch a useless, worthless pieccce of garbage." Jim whimpered, and Scroop released his wrist. Jim cradled it, feeling a bruise forming. "You'd better behave. No more missstakes…underssstand?" Jim nodded, hugging his wrist to his chest, and looked away, shutting his eyes tight. Tears cascaded down his cheeks.

"Just don't…" He couldn't say it. Just thinking about it scared him to the point where he could barely think. "Please, leave me alone…please…" He sniffled, and waited in agonizing shame. Nothing. Not even a hiss. He looked up, and was surprised to see that he was alone.

Jim wiped his eyes with his bare wrist, and tried desperately to calm down. He looked up, half fearing that Scroop was merely toying with him. But no, he was well and truly gone. Jim buried his head in his knees, and rocked himself back and forth. He couldn't help it. He cried quietly for who knew how long, before he was able to get up and walk steadily again.

He pulled his shirt back on, then his belt, his boot (which had come loose during the struggle), and finally his jacket. He left the larder, and walked cautiously into the kitchen. The purps had been picked up, and the barrel refilled. A soft glow came from the galley, and when he walked in, he saw Silver finishing his own former task.

Peeling potatoes.

Silver looked up, and gave a soft smile.

"Jimbo, lad. Thought ya went ta the crew's quarters by no'. 'Tis late, laddo." Jim nodded slowly. Should he- no. Could he tell Silver what had almost happened? Scroop had…he was going to…Jim refused to use the word. He flat out refused. "Jimbo?" Jim looked up.

"Wha…huh?"

"I said, are ya feelin' alrigh'?" Jim swallowed.

"Silver…there's…um, there's something I gotta tell you." he said. His voice came out barely louder than a whisper.

"An what 'twould tha' be?" Silver wiped off the blade that was part of his mechanical arm. Jim bit his lower lip so hard that he tasted blood. What if he told Silver, and he ended up thinking less of him? He'd worked so hard these last few months. He and Silver had become so close. The cyborg was the father he'd never had. No, he couldn't run the risk of losing what little respect the cook had for him. Especially not now. He also feared what Scroop might do to him if anyone found out. He hadn't said to keep their confrontation a secret. He hadn't had to. Jim knew that was what he wanted.

Besides, nothing serious had happened. Scroop hadn't actually hurt him. Jim made up his mind.

"I, uh…I forgot to sharpen the knives you told me to clean last night." He said, looking up. Silver's mechanical eye was burning gold, and he frowned, looking puzzled.

"I didn' ask ya to clean anythin' last nigh', Jimbo." Jim feigned a smile.

"Oh. Well, I thought you did. Never mind then." Silver didn't look convinced.

"Jimbo…are ya feelin' better after…?" He meant the black hole. Jim still felt a load of grief for his mistake. His stupid, brainless, bone-headed mistake. He was also terrified of what Scroop had…insinuated.

"…yeah." Jim sighed, hanging his head. "I guess so." Silver regarded him carefully, and sighed.

"Alrigh', if ya say so." Jim started to pick up a potato, but Silver shook his head. "I think you've done enough for today, lad. Go on an' get some shut eye." Jim paused for a moment, and briefly considered arguing, but he knew it wouldn't do any good. He felt the back of his neck.

"Arlight. G'night." He froze. What had he just…?

"G'night, boyo." Jim felt a little bit better after hearing that. He walked up the stairs leading to the galley, and inhaled deeply as a cooling breeze met him. After savoring the refreshing air, he turned towards the crews quarters. He was exhausted, but it scared him to think of what might happen should Scroop find him alone again…

Shaking his head, Jim started for the doorway. He wouldn't be alone in the room with Scroop. The other spacers were down there as well, all asleep save the night watchman. Jim glanced around, but was relieved to see Israel Hands stalking along the bow of the ship.

The teen snuck silently into the room, and made his way quietly amongst the maze of hammocks. He slowly leaned back into the sturdy fabric, and slipped his jacket off of his shoulders. He folded it into a makeshift pillow, and slipped his boots off his feet. They made a soft thudding sound as they hit the floor, and he rolled onto his side.

Scroop was in his hammock, and his still form informed Jim that he, like all the other spacers, was asleep. Jim closed his eyes, and tried to erase the event from his mind. It's okay, he told himself. Nothing happened. You're alright, you're still alive, he didn't hurt you, it's okay. Nothing happened…nothing happened…nothing…happ…

Jim Hawkins dozed off into a troubled sleep.